


Release

by fangirl2013



Category: The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Angst, Battlefield, Other, musings, sorry :(, this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl2013/pseuds/fangirl2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville's aren't supposed to get scared...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SketchLockwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/gifts).



> I hope you don't mind this. This is just something to make me feel a little better.

The cold seemed to cling to him before seeping into his bones. He rubbed his frozen hands frantically, blowing into them as he did, trying unsuccessfully to warm them up. It made him wonder if he would ever feel warm again.... His eyelids felt heavy but he knew sleep would evade him in the coming hours. The younger men around him paced anxiously, looking just as cold as he felt. Johnny felt the sudden unfamiliar urge to cry. It was a feeling that shocked him greatly. He had no idea why he felt so wretched and so helpless. He had also never felt as bad before. 

His gaze found the small fire before him and he desperately tried to lose himself in its depths. He wanted nothing more than to forget about the upcoming battle. For a few moments, it seemed he was able to as his mind conjured images of his wife, Isabelle. He could imagine her warm, happy smile welcoming home and he couldn't stop the thought that he would never see it again entering his head. The thought, too awful to contemplate for long but too realistic not to think of, seemed to break his composure. Nausea rose up in him, his unhappiness overwhelming him and it seemed he would lose the cheese and ale in his stomach. He gulped rapidly, repeatedly in order to stop him. 

"My lord, may I ask you a question?" The Marquess nodded at the young boy addressing him, almost grateful for the distraction. 

The lad flushed at the response and it seemed he was unable to continue. He tentatively took a seat next to John, a look of apprehension on his glowing face. He mirrored John's previous actions of rubbing his hands before trying to warm them up by the fire. His actions, as nervous as they were, made Johnny feel even worse. 

"Robert, what is it?" He demanded, the boy getting on his nerves. He couldn't stop himself. 

Robert seemed to nod but there was still some uncertainty written on his face. John wanted him to start speaking before he felt even more on edge. He wanted nothing more than to forget about the upcoming battle and he couldn't do that feeling so on edge. The feeling would only remind him of what was inevitably going to happen. He would die and painfully so.....

"Are you afraid of dying, my lord?" Robert finally asked, his voice husky from the emotion he felt. John could see his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he frantically gulped. He had the faintest suspicion the boy was trying not to cry. It made him want to almost comfort him. After all, he too was inexperienced and young once. The thought of dying had never once occurred to him then. He had been full of confidence that had come with youth.

Apart of John wanted to be honest with the boy. To tell him just how scared he was, how the idea of never getting back to Isabelle was slowly tearing him apart but he couldn't bring himself to. There didn't seem any point scaring the boy any further. Telling him how scared he felt would not help him feel better and it certainly would not comfort him. So instead, he found himself lying. 

"Of course not, lad. I'm a Neville and we do not get scared." He sounded more confident than he felt but Robert seemed appeased by his answer. A small, nervous smile started to edge its way on to his pale face and it seemed for the moment John had comforted him. 

The thought should have comforted him but it didn't seem to. If anything, he felt troubled. Was it really a kindness to the young lad? To pretend to be something he was not? The lad's chatter carried on and without any encouragement from him. The merest of nods and his babbling continued. The night continued slowly, the tension amongst the men getting even worse. As dawn broke, most of the men, including John, were already awake. Their thoughts far too terrifying for them to sleep.

xxxxxx

He knew the signs. They were completely outnumbered. The sound of the swords clanging painfully in his ears made him want to block out the noise. His heart raced wildly at the sounds and he couldn't help but wonder when his time would come. He tried desperately to keep alert but he felt too anxious to succeed. He spotted Robert just off from him and he saw the sword plunge into the boy's side. His eyes widened at the sight and wanted to try and help but he found himself unable to move. Shock filled him to the core, though, he couldn't understand why. How many people had he seen die in front of him? More than he wanted to admit. Why this young lad's death affected him so much, he couldn't guess at.

His eyes blurred as his eyes filled with tears. He barely noticed as the man advanced on him, his sword drawn. He tried to dodge him and the sword, his feet moving quicker than ever, but it was no use. The sword cut into him quickly, a stab of pain throbbing through him. To stop himself from crying out, he bit deeply into his bottom lip. So much so that he ended up drawing blood.... The wound filled quickly with blood and he could feel it trickling as he defended himself against the man. 

"Oh lord, please let this be quick." He mentally pleaded, pain flooding through him every time he raised his sword. 

When his release came, it took him unaware. His legs buckled underneath him and he fell abruptly to his knees. The excruciating pain was all he noticed before he fell into blackness, his eyes falling shut for the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment?


End file.
